We all are moving through this pandemic together, but on diverging paths. We have strong survival instincts, and probably have quarantined ourselves and our family. We may have greeted parents through the window and dropped food at their doorstep. We may have tearfully talked to a dear one in the hospital via an ipad. We may have lost loved ones.
We all want our jobs to be secure, our lifestyles to remain intact, our families to be safe. We struggle to keep things as we expected them to be, or better. We don’t want to make room in our lives for tragedy.
Some people will glide through this pandemic time unaffected. Their jobs will be preserved, their retirement plans will bounce back; perhaps no one close to them will become seriously ill. This will have been, in their lifetime, an inconvenient interlude.
Others’ lives may change drastically, marked by struggle, loss, and grief.
During this process we may begin looking at our lives in a different way. We may wonder anew at the mystery of our time on earth. We may ask why are we here—what is our purpose in life, and why this is happening now—to me? These are large questions easily glossed over in the daily life of preparing meals, surviving office politics, raising children, being an active part of a community.
In the midst of this period of homebound confusion and change, some people find cemeteries to be a quiet refuge where they can reflect on these challenges. Each headstone we see in a cemetery represents a personal story of someone’s journey here on earth and its connection to a larger web of human history. For a moment, we may have the chance to look beyond our everyday lives and glimpse the larger picture.
Perhaps that glimpse will be of a beautiful tapestry, with each of our lives comprising one stitch in the grand design. Perhaps it will give us perspective and acceptance for what has happened, and where we will go from here.
